Degrees of Love and Forgiveness
by 2hearts1soul
Summary: Rejected by both his father and the pack, Stiles Stilinski left Beacon Hills over six years ago and disappeared off the face of the earth. On the 7th anniversary of the day he left, the Sheriff received a desperate phone call from a terrified young child. Is there enough love left for forgiveness or will the evil chasing the child leave anyone alive to forgive?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: One forgives to the degree that one loves – Francois De la Rochefoucauld

Sheriff John Stilinski was just finishing the routine shift hand over to his Deputy Derek Hale when the call was put through to his desk. He sighed. God damn it he was tired, so tired, he just wanted to finish this double shift, go home, no not home, it hadn't been home since Stiles…No he stopped the wayward thoughts right there, he was in work, he could spill his guts when he was home, and once he had found that bottle of Jack he had bought specifically for today then he could really let rip. Today had been a bitch, in more ways than one. It seemed like everyone and their dog in Beacon Hills had decided to break, bend or downright ignore the very existence of the law notwithstanding that today was also one of the hardest days of the year for him personally.

It had been seven years, seven cold guilt filled empty desolate years since his boy had left in fear and anger and desperation. Since his only son, the image of his adored mother, had left believing his own father had abandoned him, after he had been rejected by his best friend and the pack he had nearly killed himself to protect. Damn it. He was getting maudlin whilst he was still at work when he needed to be professional. Only another ten minutes and he could head back to his empty house to wallow in his own misery.

Two nights a year he allowed himself the right to that misery. The anniversary of his wife's death and the wretched day his boy had left. The rest of the time, he had taken Stiles last painful bitter words to heart.

He had cleaned himself up, only drinking on the very rare occasions when putting alcohol into his mouth was the better option than the barrel of his service revolver. He had opened himself up to people again or more accurately he had become a member of the Beacon Hills werewolf pack which meant he was no longer alone unless he wanted to be, and even then the others, his pack mates still didn't seem to understand personal boundaries.

The offer had been made and god help him accepted when Scott had finally been able to look John in the face again six months after Stiles had left, when the Alpha had come by the house, sobered the Sheriff up, poured away all the liquor he could find and sat and cried his guilt and apologies all over the grieving older man through the night until in the cold clear light of morning, the older man had hugged the younger one, remembering that they both loved Stiles even though they had let him down so badly.

They had both shared the blame for that awful day, and he couldn't cut himself off from someone else who had loved Stiles too. He even had three of Scott's betas working as deputies, the two Hales Derek and Cora and Vernon Boyd.

In the intervening years, he had tried to date Melissa McCall which had been an utter disaster, they knew too much about each other, and the spark had never been there, not really, so now they were friends with benefits. The pair of them were comfortable having sex after their initial disconcerting fumbling which had made the two of them laugh hysterically but they just weren't in love with each other, they both knew loneliness that cut into their very skin, so a warm friendly body and soft kisses from an old and valued friend were appreciated by the both of them. Scott, bless his heart had been offended when he found out that John had no intention of marrying his mom, but the full blown Alpha temper tantrum had been averted by the forefinger and thumb of his determined mother gripping his earlobe painfully and a straight no nonsense facts of life talk which had left the young Alpha blushing, whimpering, begging for bleach so he rinse his brain out and then skulking out of the door to hide for a few days until he could face his mom or John without flushing a bright pink. He had seemingly accepted their relationships, or more likely had decided to ignore it was happening, becoming true Alpha hadn't changed Scott's fundamentally oblivious nature too much, only scowling ferociously when his mother made things obvious.

Dear God how Stiles would laugh if he heard the phrase "friends with benefits" coming out of his old man's mouth. Especially if it referred to John and Melissa, Stiles would so enjoy giving Scott shit for it. But he wasn't here to give Scott shit for it was he? Stiles didn't know anything that had happened in Beacon Hills over the last seven years, because he had never come home. Stiles had never contacted anyone, not his father, not his best friend, not his former pack mates. No one from Beacon Hills had heard from him once he had passed the boundary lines. He had sold his beloved Jeep three towns away, taken a train to San Francisco and then Stiles had disappeared off the face of the earth. No-one had been able to find him, not Danny with his electronic wizardry, not John with his police contacts and resources, and not even Peter with his supernatural networks.

The shrill ringing of his direct line was insistent and Derek shot him a surprised look, those damn eyebrows of his raised in silent enquiry as to why he was slow in picking the damn thing up.

The Sheriff sighed, gave his concerned Deputy and pack mate a lopsided grin and reached for the irritating phone, Derek could handle most things now, he was a good officer, one of John's best, the term poacher turned gamekeeper bandied about in the station in the early days of Derek's role was an insult really. The lad hadn't been a criminal, just a messed up grieving young man who didn't know how to handle the shit he had to cope with mostly alone.

John lifted the receiver and a young scared lisping voice asked in a stuttering whisper "Sheriff Stilinski?"

His fingers automatically went to the speaker button so that his Deputy could hear everything, even though he knew with Derek's enhanced senses he could hear it anyway, but it was a habit he insisted upon because not all his Deputies were werewolves. This child sounded so young, he couldn't even be sure if it was a boy or girl.

His heart sank, he hated the cases that involved kids, and his voice was impossibly gentle as he spoke "I am the Sheriff honey, what's the matter, how can I help you".

There was a pause, and the two men could hear the muffled sobbing of a very young child. The Sheriff looked at his Deputy, and was gratified to see that Derek had already moved silently to the door and beckoned to Boyd, his voice low as he told his pack mate to trace the call, then he came back to take up his previous position by the Sheriff's desk. John spared him one nod of approval before he continued speaking in that warm gentle encouraging voice

"Sweetheart, it's okay, everything's going to be okay, I'm here, can you tell me what's wrong so I can help you? I would really like to help you"

"Wha' does trace the call mean?" the crying young voice was now wary and suspicious, the stress in its tone much more evident. Both men looked at each other as surprise turned to shocked understanding. Derek spoke calmly but with a touch of compulsion "Are you Wolf little one?"

John looked at him in shock for a second at the question being asked aloud in his office but then remembered that the only Deputies actually in the station on duty tonight were either Weres themselves or were aware of the supernatural situation in Beacon Hills.

They heard panic and fear in the child's voice, "Who're you? Daddy told me to only speak to the Sheriff, Sheriff Stilinski, mustn't talk to strangers." Both men had the same mental image of the child slamming down the phone in panic if they didn't reassure the kid in time.

John reacted quickly, they couldn't let the distraught kid off the line. "It's okay Sweetheart, that's just my nice Deputy Derek but I am John Stilinski the Sheriff, you need only talk to me. Can you tell me your name and how I can help you?"

The pause grew longer and the only comfort John had was he could see Boyd returning with a piece of paper and nodding his head. Thank god they had a location now. Derek briefly checked the paper and then handed it to the Sheriff. The kid was calling from a motel about fifteen miles away from Beacon Hills. John jerked his head towards the exit and Derek was heading out, understanding his Sheriff's unspoken order to get going. His Deputy would be at the kid's location in under ten minutes.

"I can't wake Daddy" the little one finally wailed, "I've tried and tried but he won't wake up and I'm scared".

The multitude of horrific scenarios which ran through John's head didn't stop him from trying to sooth the little kid. Shit, they needed paramedics, but he had to know what situation they would be walking in on.

He tried to calm the distressed child, he had to get the kid to tell him what was going on, why had the kid asked for him specifically? Wild hope was singing in his veins battling with the terrifying fear that he might be too late. But he swept it all to the back of his mind as he focused on his job. "Its okay sweetheart we'll have an ambulance there straight away and your Daddy will be fine, but can you tell me what happened?"

The kid interrupted him in a full blown panic "No, No, only you come, only you. Daddy said only you. It has to be you. Daddy's magic dust will stop the nasty growly doggies and the bad men don't know where we are. But my Daddy won't wake up, he's just lying there and he won't wake up. I want my Daddy to wake up, please, please only you"

The colour drained from John's face and he looked up to see Derek stopped in his tracks, his muscular body still as a stone statue, neck rigid with tension as he twisted his head back towards the Sheriff, staring at him as if he had seen a ghost, and there was Cora and Boyd heading towards the Sheriff's office as if a fire had been lit underneath their backsides. All three Beta's eyes glowed as their wolves came to the fore because they could hear their human pack mate's heart start to pound heavily.

John didn't take his eyes from the blue intense gaze of Derek Hale, his Deputy's face was grim, lips pulled thin as if to keep his tongue between his teeth, and his muscular shoulders tight with strain. The Sheriff tried to hide the tension in his husky voice, he could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears but it took a few deep breaths and two attempts before his tone was firm and soothing enough to continue the conversation with the frightened young child.

"Of course I will come sweetheart but first can you tell me your names. I need to know your names, and how was your Daddy hurt?"

The little one answered the last part of the question first and John felt nausea rise up into his throat. No child should have to witness violence. "Bad men and nasty doggies hurt my Daddy and now he won't wake up." The child drew in another breath and then as if remembering the rest of the Sheriff's questions carried on, pleading for help. "Please wake him up. Kit, my Daddy calls me Kit but I have the same name as my grandpa, my name is Linden… " then to their gut churning horror, they heard the child scream in absolute terror before they lost the connection on the phone.

The Sheriff and Deputy Derek Hale were in the lead patrol car, Deputies Boyd and Hale the younger in the following car. John had ran for that patrol car like a bat out of hell and it was only Derek's superior strength that allowed him to get to the car first and firmly declare he was driving. John hadn't argued, just buckled himself into the passenger seat and set the blues flashing. At Derek's frown, he merely grunted, "Just until we get to within a mile of the motel, it will keep people ot of our way, but no sirens" Derek shrugged his acceptance and concentrated on peeling out of the station car park as if all the devils in hell were after them.

Deputy Parrish had been left to co-ordinate the information from the motel and stay by the phone in case the child rang again so that it could be put straight through to the Sheriff in the racing patrol car. The only information they had so far was that a father and young son had booked into the motel in the early hours of the morning under the name of Ashby. The father had paid for two nights in cash and the clerk hadn't been interested enough to take any notice of them.

Derek was the first to speak, he glanced warily at the tense figure besides him. Derek could smell the anxiety, despair and guilt emanating from the man. The last time he remembered the Sheriff looking that stern and drawn was when their final resort in the search for Stiles, Derek's psychotic Uncle Peter, had reported that there had been nothing on the supernatural grapevine about the boy. Privately Derek had thought that was the day that the Sheriff had lost whatever hope he had left and had buried himself in work after one dark weekend with numerous bottles.

He cleared his throat, and saw the Sheriff's blank blue eyes slide towards him, the car now going well above the speed limits but since they were the law, in an actual patrol car and Derek could drive the car blind if he had to with only his werewolf senses as his guide, neither of them were too worried about the consequences.

Damn it, he would just say it, John knew Derek couldn't beat about the bush to save his own life,

"Whatever this is, it's bad, Cora has alerted the rest of the pack and they are going to meet us at the motel, Scott will probably be there before us, we will help the little one but I have to be honest, I thought for while this had something to do with Stiles"

John's voice was grim as he responded to the unasked prompt "What makes you think it doesn't?"

The car swerved, then was back on its correct course. "The kid said he was called Linden after his Grandfather" Derek murmured in confusion, not looking at the rigid man sitting next to him. But instead of anger the Sheriff's next words were filled with sadness and for a second Derek could scent the salty tears that filled the older man's eyes

"What do you think the L in John L Stilinski stands for?"

* * *

AN: No infringement intended.

Non compliant to the series, so everyone is alive (If I want them to be). First few chapters mainly family angsty. Selected Mature as the category because of the ongoing threat to a small child but not by family.

Warning lots of angst, (see title) some fluff.. please a werecat child, what's not to fluff.

This does not belong to me, will not ever belong to me and will never make money out of it. I am merely just enjoying playing with the characters from an imaginative tv series and spreading soul destroying sadness for personal development purposes but there again I must state that there is a fluffy werekitten, an incredibly fluffy werekitten, so much fluff on that werekitten it needs a brush.

Actually have this one planned out and should be about 8 or 9 chapters so enjoy some actiony angsty kidfic on a wet Sunday evening in May you lovely people xxx  
P.s no beta, not American so if I write something too British for this let me know or even you know, let me know if you like it or if things need to be changed.  
P.P.S I used the Sheriff's real name for the Kitty and their aliases, because I am just a rebel at heart...  
P.P.P.S There will be a satisfactorily happyish ending because I can and because its May and there have been too many unhappy endings for me personally in May, so thats all I have to say about that.


	2. Chapter 2

The little boy had seen the luminous blue eyes glaring at him through the window of the motel cabin and he had screamed and screamed, dropping the phone in the process and he had run for his father lying so still in the bed. His father had promised him that no nasty doggy could get through his magic barrier before Daddy had fallen into that deep sleep where he couldn't hear Kit calling for him, where he couldn't hear how scared Kit was, and how much he wanted his Daddy to cuddle him to make things better.

He had been whispering down the phone at the Sheriff, his Daddy had said it was safe to talk to the Sheriff but only the Sheriff because there were Doggy people in the Sheriff's town too and Daddy didn't want to have anything to do with them.

Now there was one outside the cabin, Kit hadn't heard him arrive because he was so intent on talking to the Sheriff, but now he could hear the angry growling, the fast heartbeat, and he could smell the rage and fur and blood lust dripping off the horrible stinky thing.

Kit's screams had made those scary eyes blaze and the thing leapt for the window, only to fall back with a pained howl and the smell of burning flesh and fur when it hit the magical barrier, The enraged beast tried again and again whilst Kit trembled and buried his face in his Daddy's arms, whimpering for him to wake up, his little fingers unconsciously turning into claws and digging into his Daddy's shoulders until Kit finally heard the slamming of car doors and deep growls and shouts that made the nasty Doggy stop and then run.

Kit's little body flooded with terror, what was so scary that it scared that big monster into running away? When Kit heard the many footsteps coming towards the cabin where his Daddy was lying defenceless, anger and fear forced the change without his conscious will. Kit and Cub both agreed. No-one was going to hurt his Daddy, no-one, and Cub was better at fighting than Kit. His claws were sharper and his teeth were longer and he had four paws with claws to do damage.

The cabin door swung open, Kit's sensitive nose smelt them. Doggys, lots of them, but blocked by Daddy's magic. A human had opened the door because the Doggys couldn't get to it. They were all in a sort of grey and green uniform with the same colour hats on their heads. Kit's ice blue eyes focused on the human, and he roared his challenge.

* * *

When his Daddy had fallen asleep on the bed, Kit had wanted to cry, he was so scared, those nasty men had hurt his Daddy but Daddy had managed to get them away, even when he had to carry Kit cos Kit was too scared to run.

Kit had tried to do what Daddy had whispered in his ear before Daddy's amber eyes had closed, he had tried to sleep curled up against his Daddy but he couldn't smell Daddy's proper scent. His Daddy scent was home and sweet spicy cinnamon and tickling and giggling and Reese's pieces candy and even the earthy popping powerful smell that made his nose tingle and tickle his insides when Daddy did his magic stuff, they were all his Daddy's proper smells. But all those lovely safe smells were buried under hurt, run, scared, blood and cold.

Even when Kit rubbed his head into Daddy's face and neck, lifted his limp hand to nuzzle his palm, pleading and purring cos his Daddy loved to hear his purring even when he teased Kit about it, his Daddy hadn't moved, at all. Nothing worked. Daddy's scent didn't change and it was hurting Kit somewhere deep in his chest and he didn't know what to do and he needed his Daddy and he didn't want to cry cos he was a big boy, but he couldn't stop his eyes from leaking cos he tried everything he could think of to try to bring back Daddy's proper scent, and make him wake up but he couldn't do it and when he felt how cold his Daddy was, he knew he had to have help.

He had been very, very little but he remembered how cold and still Mama had been in the dark scary building after the nasty people had hurt Mama before Daddy had found them both.  
He was so scared that Daddy wasn't going to wake up just like Mama hadn't woken up and he remembered that telephone number Daddy had made him practice and practice and practice until he could say every single number in the right order and even tap them into a phone. Daddy had been really proud of him that day, calling him his clever cutie kitty cat. Kit pretended sometimes he didn't like Daddy's names for him because he was a big boy not a baby, but Kit liked the warm tingly feeling the names gave him, the same way his blue blanky used to make him feel when he was very little before he left it with his Mama when Daddy said she had to leave them and go to heaven to be with her Mama and Papa. He wasn't sure if Heaven was a cold place, cos it had lots of clouds and snow sometimes fell from clouds but Kit didn't want Mama to be cold when she was there. His Daddy had cried when Kit had told him and cried even more when Kit had asked how long Mama had to stay with Waipo and Waigong until she came home again.

* * *

So Kit reluctantly moved away from his Daddy and went to the grey phone besides the stinky couch in the small living area which had the silly little television that didn't work properly. He picked the handset up and pressed each numbered button carefully repeating the number out loud so that he wouldn't forget.

He held the handset to his ear and he was shaking so bad. When he heard the man's voice for a moment he panicked, he couldn't remember what his Daddy had called him. For some reason his fangs dropped, as if Cub wanted him to know he was there too, so he didn't have to be scared.  
Then Kit remembered, and he whispered the words, lisping slightly because of his fangs, almost not expecting an answer when he said "Sheriff Stilinski". The last part, the surname had been hard to learn and his Daddy had given him this really sad smile when he had tried to say it the first time as if he wanted to laugh but something was hurting inside him, so Kit had made an extra special effort to learn to say it properly and that awful sadness had melted into Daddy's wide happy proper smile.

Daddy always smiled with his mouth, he smiled at everyone cos he said life was easier if you used honey instead of vinegar (Daddy had laughed and laughed when Kit had tried vinegar on his pancakes one morning to see if Daddy was right) but it was only for Kit that he smiled with his mouth and his eyes too. Kit was really proud that he had the same colour eyes as Daddy cos Daddy's eyes were beautiful and whenever he looked at Kit those eyes made Kit feel like the most special thing in the whole world. Kit kinda felt sorry for Cub that his eyes were blue, but Cub didn't seem to mind too much. Cub liked Daddy's eyes too. He always purred to make Daddy's eyes smile.

Kit heard the Sheriff's voice and suddenly he couldn't help himself, he was crying. Kit never cried with strangers, he would never let them see him cry. He only ever cried with Daddy, cos Daddy was safe and would look after him. Something about the Sheriff's voice made him feel safe too.  
He knew the Sheriff would help his Daddy. But then he heard the voice of the doggy, talking in the background, using words Kit didn't understand and suddenly he was wary, why would the Sheriff have nasty Doggies with him?

Kit didn't know what to do and he rocked himself and whimpered his distress until the Sheriff's voice curled into his ears again and his voice was so kind and calm and sounded like home but he couldn't be home because Daddy was home and there was only Kit and Daddy now, so he didn't know what to do.

The Sheriff had to come to them to help Daddy by himself and when he answered the Sheriff's questions about his name, Kit had begged him to come alone, just like Daddy had wanted but before he could tell the Sheriff where to come and help them, Kit had raised his head and seen the blazing blue eyes staring at him through the window. He had dropped the phone as he screamed and ran for his Daddy.

* * *

The Sheriff had the patrol car door opened before Derek had even pulled to stop outside the Cabin.

He was out of the car with his gun drawn and moving towards the building but his Deputies moved with incredible speed and had him surrounded in a ring of werewolf protection before the sounds of the enraged howling of another creature had even hit his human ears. All of them except Derek had changed to their Beta forms, a sight John Stilinski still found incredible even after all the years he had been part of the pack.

Derek's famous glare was on his face, and he howled his warning at the inhuman beast behind the cabin. Boyd murmured quietly, "Scott, Isaac and Erica are coming through the woods now"

Derek grunted in acknowledgement but before he and Boyd could head for the snarling beast, it took off with a strange limping gait towards the woods, directly into the path of the oncoming Alpha and the other two weres.

Derek shrugged, Scott and the others would deal with it. He and the rest of the Deputies had their human boss and pack mate to protect and a child to save. But there was something strange, a scent he had never come across before. Yet there was a tantalising familiarity to it that teased at him. Before he could inform John, the Sheriff had already made his move.

He had stepped through the magical barrier as if it didn't exist, and he slowly pushed opened the door, his gun ready, using his experience to try to mitigate the risk of an outright attack, but he had to get into the cabin to make sure the little one was safe and find out if… find out if. Useless speculation would get him nowhere. He would know soon enough.

He stepped through the door, ignoring the loud and vocal protests of his Deputies because they couldn't follow him.

He came to a complete halt at the sight that greeted him. His gun dropping down to his side in a move that would have earned a severe reprimand for any of his staff.

On a double bed, crouched over the still body of a man was a white, no it was more a blue grey coloured Tiger cub. Ice blue eyes were focused on him like he was breakfast and the cub hadn't eaten for a week.  
A surprisingly deep roar left the small creature's mouth which silenced his Deputies, until the cub leapt straight at him, claws and fangs visible and hissing with rage.

The Sheriff's arm came up in a movement that was pure instinct, his weapon primed and ready. The sound of a shot ran out.

* * *

AN:

I can't believe the reaction I have had to this one. You are all fabulous. Thank you xx

So second chapter, another cliff hanger and now you hate me, well I'd hate me too but I have already started the next chapter and know what's happening...does that make you hate me more? Hehhehe. If I get lots of reviews I might be encouraged to post chapter 3 before the end of the weekend... oh ignore that I am going to publish it anyway. I refuse to blackmail people into writing reviews, I just love the fact that my story is being read anything is a beautiful bonus xx

A couple of notes for you.

Note1: Grandma = Waipo and Grandpa = Waigong comes from Southern china (maternal) – this will make sense when I explain more about the fluffiest cutest were tiger cub in existence. Hope I have got this right Googled it so if its wrong let me know, happy to change

Note 2. Tigers can't purr, they chuff. But its my story, my head canon and Kit can purr because he's a supernatural being and I am not sacrificing the diabetes inducing fluff that this purring were tiger kitten can bring. Besides which in certain slang from other parts of my complex and delightful country "chuffing" either means bottom burping aka farting or vomiting after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, so no, I can't and won't have a chuffing were tiger baby. Sorry.

Enjoy peeps xx


	3. Chapter 3

Derek watched in angry frustration as the young cub leapt towards the Sheriff, the scent of the little one's terrible fear, anger and determination to protect the prone figure on the bed behind him was painfully obvious to all the wolves. Boyd rumbled his discomfort sub vocally and Cora was snarling, body vibrating with the need to attack something so that everyone was safe. Derek was the only one who was managing to keep control but he wasn't sure how much longer that would last if he had to continue to just watch the bloody Sheriff walk into danger without backup.  
Why the hell hadn't the Sheriff broken the barrier so that they could all get in and they could contain the threat without anyone getting hurt? Derek's eyes flashed blue, his wolf close to the surface as they widened with horror. Oh God, the Sheriff was raising his weapon. "No John" he roared in desperation. The man would never forgive himself if he hurt the cub, or even killed it. But before the young tiger had even reached the human a shot rang out and the bullet smacked into the wall mere inches from the Sheriff's head.

"If you move a muscle you bastard the next one will be between your eyes", the hoarse raspy voice was from the suddenly awake, aware, armed, half way upright man on the bed.

At the sound of that voice, the cub seemed to spin in mid-air, fall to the ground and then leapt into the lap of the man on the bed with breath-taking speed. Long dark hair with a solid band of silver trailing from his widow's peak obscured the man's face in the dimly lit room.

"Its ok Cub, you were so brave, Daddy's so proud of you, you are such a brave tiger Cub to look after Kit and me, now I need to speak to Kit my beautiful Cub, so proud of you." The hard voice had softened and now soothed the trembling little animal clinging to him with his claws digging into his legs and there was no hint of a wince or pain.

And before the eyes of the astonished Sheriff and the rest of the pack, the tiger cub transformed into a naked little brown haired boy with big amber slightly almond shaped eyes.

The little boy reached for his father's neck, knowing to avoid the arm holding the gun, but tucked his head against his father's chest and then began to sob, whimpering for his Daddy. The man lovingly stroked the little one's hair and allowed him to cry out his fear whilst the small gun in his other hand didn't waiver, not even deigning to look at his captive whilst he comforted the child, whispering loving nonsense into the little one's ears.

The Sheriff didn't move a muscle, he knew he was treading on ice but he needed to see the guy's face, the voice was too damaged to recognise so he needed to see his face, for the love of God he needed to see his face.  
"You do know you are holding a gun to the head of a Sheriff, don't you son, which is pretty much an offence whichever way you look at it?" he asked with just the right amount of dry sarcasm to catch the other man's interest.

His free hand tightened on the young child but the guy's head shot up as he snarled "You pointed a gun at my son you fucker, you're lucky you are still breathing" His vicious truth laden words trailed off into shocked silence as he actually looked at the man he was holding at gun point for the first time.

The Sheriff looked into the haggard, scarred, grim, older face of his son, and his heart stopped. He could feel that bloody thing actually come to a halt in his chest and for a moment, Stiles face blurred as tears threatened but he forced them away, he wasn't going to shed tears in front of his boy and his grandson now, he would weep like a baby later in the privacy of his own room when he had the two of them safe where they belonged in his house under his protection. He just wasn't sure he could get his voice to say the name on his lips, until finally he managed to whisper "Stiles". Without thought of any danger he took an eager hopeful step towards his son.

The gun had begun to lower until the man on the bed gave a short cynical laugh, those amber eyes hard and almost delirious, and the gun was again pointing at the Sheriff's face, "Another fucking illusion Koi, you must be getting desperate" hatred, pure and simple dripped from the venomous words, and any hesitation or softness not directed to the child was gone.

John watched with horror as his son began to put pressure on the trigger of that squat little weapon.

The deputy wolf pack had been watching the events unfold in silent disbelief. They had not been able to cross the barrier and stared in helpless rage at the precarious position the Sheriff was in.

"For god's sake Stiles, that's your father" Derek roared but the stranger who was Stiles just smirked darkly "Koi, Koi, Koi" he sang the name mockingly before the murderous rage was back "I told you what would happen if you came near us again"

It was the soft scared voice of the little boy which managed to halt his father's movements

"Daddy, I called the number"

Stiles never looked away from the illusion of the Sheriff standing against the wall. But his voice lowered and softened for his son. "Kit darling what did you say?" It was bad enough he would have to destroy the illusion in front of his son. The little boy had seen too much horror in his short life already, and Stiles selfishly wanted to delay the moment but if that damned thing moved from the wall, he would kill it anyway. He refused to acknowledge just how much like his father the damn thing was, visual and auditory perfection. That fucking bastard Koi, if he didn't have to protect Kit, he would make that evil son of a bitch burn. Molotov cocktails be damned, Stiles skills now could make Peter Hale's fiery death look like the flickering of a candle in a draft. His son's words dragged him back from the dark and dangerous thoughts.

"I called the number Daddy, the one you made me learn, 'member. I called the number cos I was scared Daddy and you wouldn't wake up." the little boy whimpered imploringly.

"You called the number baby?" Stiles voice was low and unsure, trying to force himself to think instead of react with the deadly instincts which had become second nature trying to run and protect his boy. Kit heard the confusion in his Daddy's voice "The number for the Sheriff Daddy, the one you made me learn" the little boy was insistent, as if on some level he knew this was the only way to stop his Daddy. Kit had recognised the man's voice when he had spoken to Daddy, this was the same man who had answered the phone and been kind to him. Kit wasn't sure how cos he hadn't told the Sheriff where he and his Daddy were before the monster came to the window, but he couldn't smell any magic on him, just stinky doggies yuk, but that didn't matter cos it was the Sheriff's voice he was sure of it. Daddy was still not well because of the nasty men, and Kit was sure his Daddy wouldn't want to hurt the man he was supposed to ring if Daddy couldn't help him.

"For the love of God Stiles, it's your father you moron, now let us in" And wasn't that surly grumpy angry voice a blast from the past and familiar from his dreams, nightmares, he meant his bloody nightmares.

For a few seconds Stiles brain seized up on him, he hurt all over, he had expended more energy, emotional, physical and magical over the last ten days than he dared to think about, and he was utterly exhausted. The only reason he wasn't still comatose was because he sensed the unknown entity enter the cabin, a potential threat to his son so it had triggered his awareness. Anything outside hadn't trickled through at all because he knew his child was safe within his protections and wards.

In his dazed but deadly state he didn't protest when Kit wriggled out of his arms, not until he saw his boy head towards the illusion against the wall.

"Kit, stop" the growl he uttered gave the wolves a run for their money, but the little boy merely smiled up at him. "I can't smell the stinky magic Koi uses Daddy, and the man is the one I talked to on the phone. I know his voice and he sounds like home, just like you do"

Stiles felt the words like a punch to his gut. He was so tired, he couldn't make rational decisions but if what Kit was saying was true, he had nearly killed his own father. He watched silently as the Sheriff slid down the wall as if his strings had been cut and sat on the floor in front of the little boy. He slid the gun he was holding away from him, and spoke to the man even though his wet eyes didn't leave the beautiful child in front of him. "Stiles please, let me help you, let me help him please?"

Stiles ignored his father's words, he knew he didn't have the time left to speak to both his father and his son, before the need to sleep blocked out everything again. He could feel his magic forcing his body to rest. So he concentrated on Kit. It was only sheer bloody-minded stubbornness that had kept him on upright on the bed that long, now his mind was admitting that Kit would be safe, his body was relaxing, not giving a shit if Stiles wanted to stay awake any longer.

"Kit sweetheart, this is your grandpa. Stay with him until Daddy wakes up again but don't go near the Doggies, okay? I need to sleep again. I love you baby boy"

Stiles closed his eyes on the sight of his son moving timidly towards his father who was holding onto the floor as if he was going to fall off it. He ignored the calls from the pack at the door, and his father's concerned questions, he would deal with it all when he woke up, before he and Kit got out of the thrice damned place for good, and relaxed back into the healing sleep he needed.

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An:

**Oops uploaded the unedited third chapter so sorry, nothing big just grammar and stuff. **

And the third chapter is up. Because I just couldn't leave my little kitten flailing in mid air!

Thank you for all your lovely reviews and favouriting/ following. Really pleased you like it. If I haven't responded to a comment yet, will do soon.

I am trying to stick to a schedule of once a week with this one, and 9 chapters might be a tad under estimated. I haven't even got through everything I had planned for chapter 2 yet and we are already on chapter 3. Sigh!

So enjoy. Next chapter Kit gets to know his grandpa and he meets the doggies... Stiles has a kip for a little while, think he deserves it poor lamb.  
P.S Stiles doesn't normally swear in front of his little boy but he's sleep addled, and adrenaline fuelled to defend his baby so he's not quite all there at the moment. xx


	4. Chapter 4

_AN:_

_Before you start reading just wanted you to know that the Parts in italics are flashbacks / Memories. The normal text is the current part of the story. Hope this works!_

_Oops - left out some crucial info about Stiles's "invoicing process", just changes to the first two paragraphs. _

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_Stiles didn't know how he had got to the big cat enclosure in the San Francisco Zoo. It was a week day, and mostly overcast, surprisingly there weren't that many people around. Stiles had bought an entry ticket on impulse, he had enough money not to worry for a good few months, and if he eked it out, even a year, courtesy of his beloved Jeep, and his now defunct college fund but he had also "Invoiced" the pack for his services for the last two years. __Meaning he had raided the bank accounts of the pack, the ones that could afford his "fees", Derek, Jackson, Lydia and Danny were all chosen to pay the pack's outstanding debt. Stiles was sure that any impulse to bring him to justice would be short lived, as he knew where the bodies were buried. Literally!_

Independent Consultants and researchers didn't work for nothing did they? It's not as if he was pack was he? He didn't try to save them from the monster of the week, human or supernatural out of the love of his heart and a need to protect his friends, his bloody caring and sharing family did he? So they could pay for his time, for his blood, sweat and tears, again literally. He had also taken all his information, his updated bestiary, erased his hard drive and taken his magically enhanced baseball bat to his beloved laptop and phone, leaving his treacherous ex friends with only the research he had shared with Lydia. 

_He had left Derek and Scott an itemised invoice so they could claim tax relief on it. He hadn't charged them for the scars or broken limbs or the PTSD. He had been more than fair on the hourly rate, he hadn't even included overtime._

_Now he was in the Zoo just wandering around, deep in his thoughts but at least he wasn't going to have to interact with anyone. For the last five days he had been operating on autopilot. He had run after the shit storm had hit on the Thursday, he hadn't stopped running. He was numb, all emotions, and thoughts on lock down. God almighty, what did it say about his life? What did it say about him? That he already had plans in place to deal with a treachery so personal that he never believed it would happen. That even though he hadn't expected it, that he couldn't believe they had done that do him, that even his own father had been involved, he still had been able to pull everything together and disappear into the damn wind. They had known his weaknesses, where to hit to hurt the most. God why hadn't they just ripped his throat out it would have been kinder and cleaner! _  
_But they had forgotten that the pathetic little human liability with the built in use-by date knew their weaknesses, all their fucking weaknesses the arrogant dicks and knew their strengths too, he knew how they thought, and there was no way they would find him unless he allowed them too. Bite him Danny! And right now he never wanted to see their lying deceitful cruel fucking faces ever again. Beneath the numbness, he could feel the anger, the sheer unadulterated rage that wanted to make them eat wolvesbane bullets but he didn't dare let it out because beneath the anger was a world of pain and he had no interest in dealing with that at all._

_"If you stare at the tiger like that without blinking it will take it as a challenge you know" a soft teasing voice broke into his introspection. He flailed at the sound and his cheeks pinked with embarrassment as he glanced left in surprise and saw a petite dark haired girl next to him, a small smirk on her mouth as she turned to face him. Stiles drew in a deep breath, "God you're beautiful" he blurted out as his eyes roamed the translucent pale skin, warm wide green eyes and night black hair. "You only need the ruby red lips and you could be Snow White's double" he rambled, and then blushed almost as much as she did. "Huh sorry to be a creeper, I'll just go now" he muttered shamefaced but stopped when he heard her delighted laughter._

Kit watched his Daddy go back to sleep, he knew Daddy needed to rest and he wouldn't have closed his eyes if things weren't safe again, but he so wished that Daddy hadn't. Kit knew he was a big boy but right now he wasn't sure he wanted to be. There were so many strangers near him, most of them stinky doggies, and then there was the funny man on the floor in front of him, who smelt both sad and happy. Then curiosity sparked through him as he remembered what Daddy had said, it seemed to make the fright go away, well maybe a little bit went away cos he could still feel like Cub wanted to come out and warn everyone with some scary hissing, but Daddy had said that the sad, happy man on the floor, the Sheriff was his Grampa.  
Kit turned to look at him, tilting his head a little, Cub wanted him to step closer, he wanted to scent him, see if he really smelt like home as well as sounded like home, but Kit was not so sure yet. So Kit put on his most serious face and asked him instead "Are you really my Grampa?", then his little heart started to beat faster and he began to move from one foot to the other, as he became more alarmed and asked hurriedly "Why are you crying? Don't you want to be my Grampa?" and Kit could feel his own tears rising at the thought this man didn't want to be his grandfather. "'M sorry I tried to hurt you but I won't do it again" he whispered sorrowfully, those amber eyes darkening with tears.

Then he meeped in surprise when the man on the floor tugged him into his arms and buried his head against Kit's neck. Kit began to squirm as the strange sad happy man suddenly peppered his face with little kisses but before Kit could get out of his arms, his mad Grampa stopped and gave him a beaming smile. "I am so pleased and proud to be your Grampa little man, you are so brave and clever."

One of the doggies at the door growled angrily at his Grampa "John for the love of God will you please break the barrier and let us in." Kit glared at the big scary doggy man and hissed, Cub close to the surface. He could feel his claws wanting to escape but he didn't want to upset his Grampa again. But he would if that big monster carried on growling. Doggies were bad, and nasty and stinky and this one had no right to talk to his human Grampa like that.

The dark haired Doggy with the wiggly eyebrows looked at him and his eyes flashed at Kit, "Be still little Cat" he ordered calmly as if Kit would obey him. Hah. Daddy would have laughed, and said Cats never obeyed orders, which wasn't fair cos Kit always listened to Daddy, maybe not always cos sometimes if he was interested in something he kind of forgot what Daddy had said, but Kit didn't do it to be naughty and Daddy knew it.

But Kit wasn't fooled by that Doggy's calm tone. The Doggy's eyes still looked angry. He knew how deceitful Doggies were and he wasn't going to trust them. Daddy had said not to go near them but he had to keep his Grampa safe from them. Kit's eyes became predatory, and unblinking. Cub began to push at him to come out again.

A large hand stroked his head gently, "Kit, Kit it's okay Sweetheart, these are my friends and they work for me. We look after the people of Beacon Hill together" his Grampa's voice was soothing again, making Kit feel safe. Kit stared at the Doggy staring at him for one last moment and then turned and butted his head gently against his Grampa's chin, before disentangling himself from his Grampa's arms and moving towards the bag that carried all of Kit's clothes and toys, simply saying "I'm cold"

The Sheriff watched his grandson, Jesus Christ he had a grandson, move towards the bed, running a caressing hand over his unconscious father's arm, shoulder and hair as he walked past, an almost inaudible purring coming from him, until he got to the disreputable, stained, dark coloured duffel bag on the other side of the room. He emptied it with efficiency and then repacked it swiftly, the concise actions more suited to a child three times his age.

Dear God, how long had Stiles and the child been running, what the hell were they running from, how old was the little kid? Frantic questions ran through the Sheriff's brain as he raised himself from the floor and finally made his way to the entrance to clear the magical barrier for his Deputies to enter, resolutely ignoring the irritation and anger on their faces, as they made their way into the room, and quickly searched the cabin. Boyd pulled together the rest of the belongings he could find and was heading back out to the patrol car. Cora was searching through the cabin for anything that could tell them why they were there or what was after them, and Derek. Derek stood on the other side of the bed, giving the little one space, but in a position that allowed him to study Stiles's prone figure and surreptitiously catalogue his body through scent and sight for any obvious damage or injuries. If his gaze lingered overlong on Stile's face, no-one mentioned it.

The Sheriff knew damn well his Alpha would have a few words to say to him about heading into potential danger by himself and not letting the pack back him up. But he would deal with that later, at least one of his questions could be answered straight away.

He moved towards the little boy again, and softly asked "Kit, how old are you?" The child had already put on a pair of jeans and a little red t shirt which looked like Robin's outfit with an honest to god little yellow cape hanging off the back of it. He was struggling to pull on a pair of sneakers that had a comic strip pattern, his little pink tongue peeking out as he concentrated. John didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Trust his boy to dress his own kid up in a Batman themed outfit. John heard the familiar click of camera phones and then Erica's delighted coos. If Erica was already here then so was Scott and Isaac but John wasn't going to be distracted from his grandson who was also ignoring the pack as if they didn't exist as his guileless amber eyes looked up at his grandfather. Claudia's and Stiles's beautiful amber eyes. "I'm four and three quarters Grampa" the little boy announced proudly. "Can you help me with my shoes please?"

As John knelt to help the little boy, he could feel more of his pack hover behind him. He heard Scott's simple exhale of his son's name, and then the Alpha seemed to subside into a stunned silence; he felt Isaac head towards Derek, and lean against the older man as they both stared down at Stiles, Derek's face unreadable but his fist were clenched. Isaac was more open in his reactions as he whined a little and pressed himself closer to Derek. The little boy's head swung away from his grandfather and he glared at the two wolves staring at his Daddy.

"Don't you touch my Daddy" the little voice had deepened but he was lisping again, his fangs had dropped and were visible as he snarled the words and his eyes were flashing blue.

John looked sharply up at Derek and Isaac but before he could say anything to calm the little boy, Erica interrupted, her smile unguarded and genuine as she flung herself to her knees beside the Sheriff "Hey Robin, we are your Daddy's friends, we won't hurt him. I'm your Daddy's Cat-woman" she teased gently.

The little boy leapt for her with his claws out snarling in rage, fur and fang descending. It was only the fact that the Sheriff was right there at the child's feet that enabled him to catch the half changed were cub before he reached Erica's eyes. She had moved backwards with alacrity, her mouth falling open with shock, then her own fangs descended and she roared with anger. The little cub couldn't have cared less but his grandfather's stern voice calling his name made him change back although the little boy was still enraged and he screamed at the female werewolf "My mommy is my Daddy's Cat, not you, never you. And you aren't my Daddy's friends, nasty doggies always try to hurt my Daddy and me. Always".

Guilty silence met the little boy's words. Erica paled and allowed her wolf to retreat. She didn't know what to say to the little boy. She hadn't meant to upset the kid. Scott moved forward and brushed the back of her head in comfort, her tense shoulders eased a little. John closed his eyes in despair for a few seconds as he hugged the furious little boy tightly, then tried to sooth the little boy.

"Kit, no-one wants to hurt your Daddy or you" and Scott moved closer, his eyes tinged with red as he tried to use his Alpha voice to calm the situation and reassure the little boy. "Little Dude, we aren't nasty doggies, we just want to help you and your Dad"

Kit looked at him in open mouthed irate disbelief. Scott felt the look like a punch to the gut. It was classic Stiles when someone couldn't follow his logic or did something idiotic instead of listening to him. The kid only needed to face palm and he would be a mini me version of Stiles. Scott hadn't seen that look for so long, he nearly missed what the kid had to say  
"No you are stupid and nasty" he sniped right back at Scott "I am a Cat. I don't have to do what you say, and you stink of blood, just like every other nasty doggy that's tried to hurt us."

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AN:

Chapter 4 is up a little earlier than I intended, but that's a good thing right. Have read it through a couples times and edited it, it's unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Let me know if you spot anything totally outrageously idiotic. Not a cliffy this time, well not a real one. Hope you enjoy.

Just wanted to say that the reaction to this story has been amazing. Thank you all so much.


	5. Chapter 5

_Stiles stared in disbelief at the two little pink lines on the small white plastic stick he held in his hand until the lines burned themselves into his retinas. The trembling seemed to start deep within his core, right there in his heart, and spread out through his body until it reached all his extremities.  
He could even feel his goddamn eyelashes shiver. His heart began to pound, and he was finding it hard to draw breath. No he was not fucking going to have a panic attack, he hadn't had one since, since That Day. He had even capitalised That Day, so that he didn't actually have to think about what happened then. It was enough that he had named and shamed That Day, he didn't need the hi def colour memories and surround sound of his frenetic brain to remind him of the second worst day of his life. He had learnt moving meditation, his body would never stay still enough to just close his eyes and sit there and chant om. The moving mediation had also increased his endorphin levels, he had mostly avoided stressful situation, snort, mostly, so he wasn't going to spoil nearly two years of frigging hard work because of a stupid piece of plastic.  
A small hitching sob burst free from his compressed lips. This, this right here had the potential for so many goddamn problems, his brain wanted to seize up. How the hell was he going to keep this from escalating? He could feel his eyes blur as he continued to stare at those two unmistakable small pink lines. _

_He slowly tore his riveted gaze away from the innocuous piece of plastic and looked up at the strangely calm hazel eyes boring into his face. A pale hand cupped his cheek so lovingly before he felt the claws run gently down towards his neck without breaking the skin. The eyes changed to an electric icy blue as they fixated unblinkingly on Stiles, and then the same clawed hand was turned and soft, so very soft fur rubbed back the way the claws had travelled so delicately. Stiles felt the low level purring begin against his collarbone, and he tilted his head back in delighted approval.  
For a second he forgot about those ominous pink lines and wallowed in that gorgeous familiar feeling of such sheer need to touch, to please, to take. to give, to love that he could barely stop himself from turning and taking those delicate lips with his own, when that sweet husky voice rippled the air so close to his ear, and whispered "Our Baobei"  
There was a pause as they both sucked in air as if it was going out of fashion, and then that same sweet voice chuckled, the joy unhidden "You are going to be a Daddy Stiles"_

_"Oh my god, Soo Lin, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god". The manic grin that lit up Stiles face was oddly complemented by the unashamed tears which poured from his eyes as he gazed with adoration into his wife's beautiful smiling face._

Kit and Cub had not been happy when that big stupid red-eyed stinky doggy with the dumb looking face had tried to pick their Daddy up from the bed. Cub had lent Kit his claws and Kit had nearly used them on his Grampa in his fury, but it was Cub doing the hissing in Kit's throat at all of the stinky doggies. Kit had leapt on to the bed and crouched over his Daddy daring one of them to come near. He knew how close Cub was and they would be real sorry if Cub came out again.  
They were all grumbling and growling at him as if what they wanted was important, not what Kit wanted or his Daddy wanted. Kit didn't listen, Kit wasn't even listening to his Grampa at that point, they were all too close to his defenceless Daddy and his Daddy had told him that they weren't to be trusted. No stinky Doggy person was to be trusted, he had learnt that lesson when he was a tiny baby.

It was only when his Grampa made them all shut up and get out of the cabin that Kit could start to calm down. Kit was a little bit worried in case his Grampa was real angry with him and his tummy felt a bit icky thinking about it, but he knew he had to look after his Daddy.

Grampa slammed the door on the grumbling Doggies, he could still hear Red eye try to order his Grampa to do things the way he wanted, but Grampa had just told him to get a grip of himself, that they were frightening his grandson, so Scott needed to calm down. Ha, even the stupid Doggy's name was stupid. Scotty Doggy

Kit's worried amber eyes were looking right at him, his face going from tearful to determined and back again as if he couldn't make his mind up about how he felt, even while he still stubbornly protected his comatose father. The Sheriff drew in a deep breath. He knew how the kid felt. He was just acting on instinct now too. God, he had seen that expression a thousand times before. It brought the memories flooding back. Kit was the image of his father as a little boy, Claudia would have been enchanted. She would have covered that little one's face in kisses and then started on their son's until she had him squirming in embarrassed delight.  
He slowly and carefully sat at the head of the bed besides his exhausted unconscious son, one swift glance down at his slack sleeping face, and a gentle stroke through that long hair before he swung back towards his anxious grandson.

"It's alright sweetheart, everything's alright now. Come to Grampa, I think a cuddle is what we both need right now, and then we will get everything sorted" His voice was soothing and firm, no hesitation even if he didn't have a clue what was going on. Kit was the important one now that he knew his Stiles was at least not hurt or dying. He held out his arms patiently until Kit finally relaxed his rigid stance and flew towards him with a sob.

John L Stilinski felt like the luckiest bastard in the world. He had an armful of adorable grandson and his boy, his beautiful son was home. Unconscious yeah, but the little shit was breathing and not knowing if that was still a fact had cost him more than one sleepless night over the last seven years. He had his boys' home and he would do everything in his power to make sure that's where they stayed. Stiles might have got his eyes from his mother, but his infernal stubbornness was purely a Stilinski trait. It was way past time that he was reminded of that fact. Whatever or whoever Stiles was running from was going to have a pretty welcome if they dared to show their faces in Beacons Hill. The wolfish grin that the Sheriff directed towards his unaware son would have made any of his Were pack mates shiver in apprehension.

The Sheriff stared at his young Alpha in disbelief. "Scott have you taken leave of your senses?" he asked incredulously. Scott flushed bright red, but before he could speak, the Sheriff continued his voice rising with the beginnings of anger "Seriously Scott? You seriously think taking Stiles and Kit to the pack house on the preserve is even an option?"

Scott's face hardened "It's the only way we know they will be safe, it's warded by Lydia, and the pack will be able to protect them, we will have advance warning of anything coming for them there. Derek and I both think..."

"Oh and we know all know how well the last time you and Derek put your heads together about Stiles worked out don't we Scott" the Sheriff growled with the beginnings of real anger.  
Before Scott could respond, he held up his hand and continued bitingly "Did you feel the strength of the wards around the cabin Scott? Even for me it felt like I was having to wade through a ton of mud to get through that barrier. That was Stile's doing when he was exhausted and nearly unconscious and with all due respect to Lydia, she was never as strong magically as Stiles. And bottom line Scott, he doesn't want to deal with the pack."

"He came back for our help John!" Scott insisted stubbornly. "No son" the Sheriff contradicted quietly and sadly "He taught his little boy my telephone number for use in a life or death emergency only, he ordered Kit to stay away from you and the pack. Do you think it had escaped my notice that it was the little lad that rang even though they are so close to Beacon Hills? If Stiles had been conscious he would never had contacted me, we wouldn't even have known he was here."  
The open pain in the older man's face made Isaac whine in support and Boyd rubbed a large hand over the Sheriff's shoulder in silent comfort. Then the Sheriff opened his eyes and stared shrewdly at his Alpha. "There is also the fact that you get to keep an eye on Stiles in case he's a danger to the pack, isn't that right Scott?" Scott's face looked older, harder and sterner. He didn't deny the Sheriff's words, "We don't know why he is back, and we already had to kill an Omega who was trying to get to Stiles and the kid. We have to know if he is a risk to the pack John" he admitted calmly. "You didn't learn your lesson last time Scott?" John asked bitterly, but got no satisfaction from the flinch the Alpha was unable to hide, as Derek's hard voice repeated the question back at him "Did you John?"  
The Sheriff flashed him a look that should have seared him to the very bone. "I've fucking learnt mine Derek, it might have taken me seven long years to prove it to him but I have definitely learnt it" Most of the werewolves eyes widened. The Sheriff never used bad language.

There was a bitter judgemental silence until Cora bluntly told them "This angst fest is all well and good Guys but Stiles and Kit need somewhere to stay. Make up your minds already. We got to get moving soon before we attract even more attention for Christ sake".

The Sheriff started moving towards the police vehicle that held both his prone son and his little grandson

"What are you going to do if he is a risk to the pack Scott?" John asked coldly, not looking at the Alpha. It was no surprise when he didn't get a response to the question. He doubted that Scott even knew the answer to it himself, but it did reinforce his decision.

"No Scott, they are staying with me, when Stiles wakes up, he will be in his own home, and that's final. If you need to make arrangements to ensure that he isn't a risk that's fine but the first thing he sees is not going to be the old Hale house."

Bright sunlight flickered across the face of the sleeping man. He groaned and slowly turned his face into the pillow to avoid the irritation. He didn't see the quiet observer in the corner of the room pick his head up from the book he had been reading and stare intently at the prone figure. It was the first time in three days that the sleeping man had even moved, let alone made a sound. They had got to the point where those waiting for him to awaken were considering a drip to keep him hydrated.  
The book was put quietly to rest on the small bookshelf besides the chair that had been the resting place for the people who had kept watch over the sleeping man in their allocated shifts. The chair was far enough away from the bed not to upset the fiery little boy who had insisted on sharing the s bed with his father.

Derek quietly left the room to inform the rest of the household that Stiles was waking up.

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AN: Hope you enjoy. Just a reminder he italics are flashbacks. Normal typeface is the current story. This chapter is a wee bitty shorter than the others but next one more that makes up for it.

Let me know what you think xx


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles woke to an empty room. His fully restored magic had woken him gently, bringing him up through the layers of consciousness until he was completely awake. Bright sunlight seared his eyes and for a moment the room was featureless and indistinct. Where was his son? Where was his Kit, his Cub, his baby boy? Adrenaline flooded his body on a tidal wave of fear, but strangely his magic was slow to react. What the hell? He couldn't tell where he was or where his son was, and his heartbeat reacted to the chemical explosion of the adrenaline in his blood stream and began to pound until it was almost painful. The snarl on his lips was as vicious as any seen on a cornered and hurt wild predator, his fingers beginning to move in swirls and dips as his rage and uncertainty finally seemed to trigger his magic, the power pulsing behind his skin waiting for the opportunity to unleash its force in the protection of his son, the only living being that mattered to him now, the only one he would allow to matter.

He drew a deep sustaining breath as finally his eyes adjusted to the light and he recognised the room. God damn it the exhalation of air that left his lungs and flew out of his mouth was not relief just because he knew where he was. The suspicion and rage did not leave but they levelled off and calmed, as he remembered snatches of a conversation with his young son, and then nearly shooting his own father under the impression he was yet another illusion Koi had created to slow them down, before the healing sleep of his magic had forced him to submit to the long needed rest.  
He remembered that Kit was with his father. Kit who had been named for the man because his beautiful gentle wife had fixed him with that unblinking sometimes terrifying blue eyed stare and told him that the naming of their children was the prerogative of the tigress in the mated pair and she knew what she wanted. Did he have a problem with that? She had asked kindly as she ran a decidedly clawed finger over the front of his trousers and Stiles had perhaps, maybe, almost certainly mewled in a manly, totally completely utterly masculine way and agreed totally, completely, utterly in a thoroughly non cowardly manner.  
The fact that he would be damned before he used that name himself was something he diplomatically forgot to mention, his child would get used to using a nickname just like Stiles had. Soo lin had decided that naming the boy Linden was only right and proper, showing respect to Stiles parents so his beautiful, stubborn Snow had refused to call her baby son anything else, and had scowled at him trying not to laugh when Stiles had insisted on calling him Kit. "Damn it Stiles, he's a Were Tiger Cub not a house cat, he is not a kitten" she had complained loudly and often, and had refused to talk to Stiles for a day when he had crowed his triumph after overhearing her calling the baby Kit. God she had been adorable when she was angry, God she had been adorable full stop and he missed her so fucking much.

Her Linden, his Kit, their baby boy would be safe with his grandfather, if Stiles trusted him with nothing else, he could always count on that, his father would not hurt a child. He could betray his own son without hesitation the bastard but he would keep his grandson physically safe at least which was why he had ensured that his young child learn the telephone number. Stiles had made it a game but a persistent one so that Kit knew the damn thing off by heart. Even though Stiles had no intention of ever seeing his father again, he had made sure that in the event of his own untimely demise or incapacitation his son would be protected by someone who understood the supernatural world and wasn't a bloody hunter or a damn were. For now Kit was safe with his grandfather, and if they were in trouble, he would have felt Kit's fear and pain. They might not be pack the way the Wolves understood but the bond forged when he had mated Soo Lin, his beautiful gracious Snow, had also enveloped and surrounded their baby boy. His magic always knew if the little one was afraid or upset and he could only felt the contentment of a happy little cub. The tension in his body eased a little further, now his first priority was had been covered, he needed to know what was waiting for him when he left his old bedroom.

He allowed the rising power to change its focus, sending it to seek information on the other occupants of the building, whisper silent and smooth.

He lay quietly, unmoving, on the bed, only his eyes swept the familiar space. It had not changed. It was still the same as the day he had finally left, even his lacrosse stick still propped up by the wardrobe. Had the damn man even changed the sheets on the bed? He nearly snorted with dark amusement but he remained still, and silent. A deliberate act which would astonish those he had grown up with. His stillness would allow his magic to remain focused on its task. He knew to his cost how his magic became distracted if he did, so he had learned, with blood, sweat and tears but he had learned.

He had fought to learn how to control his mind, his body, his bloody chattering tongue and he had succeeded, with his darling Snow's help he had overcome the bane of his childhood with sheer bloody minded stubbornness and a lot of magical training. He could do it whilst he was using his spark but his body, mind and mouth still betrayed him at other times. But he could stop it when it mattered.

Nothing had changed in this damn room, nothing despite the fact that there was no dust. His father falling back on the same old pattern of behaviour, not leaving his comfort zone of refusing to deal with his emotions properly. He would bet his life that his mother's sewing room was still the same as it was the last day she managed to walk unaided into it. In the nine years after she died his father had refused to change anything, why the hell would he have done it in the seven years Stiles had been away? Bitter amusement flooded his gut. He had been almost as bad, not touching his mother's shrine. It was only the necessities of the life he now led with his own son that made him relinquish that pathetic need to hang onto things, as if material things could ever compensate for the loss of a loved one.

When they had lost Soo Lin, Stiles and their son had fled with little more than was on their backs and Stiles little box of magic tricks. Their belongings had been already packed and in storage because they had been warned that they had been found again and it was time to move on. But Stiles didn't need her dearly loved and treasured little collection of antique Chinese teapots or the jade pin that always adorned her hair, the very first present he had ever bought for her, to remind himself of how much he had loved her and what he had lost when she had been ripped from them by those murdering animals. He had a little boy with his mother's smile, sweet loving heart and intensely protective nature. He had the image of her face buried so deep in his heart when he watched their son sleep, the first expression of wondering awe and adoration she had worn when Kit had been born. He had the feel of her fur against his skin when their little one allowed Cub out. He had Cub with his mother's rare blue grey fur and luminous ice blue eyes. And he had stories, words, songs that his little boy demanded in remembrance of his mother. Not a pained echoing silence that would ultimately weaken the spirit and bruise a young heart enough until betrayal was not even a surprise. His baby boy was so much more important than a still and silent sewing machine or a lacrosse stick that had never seen much use anyway, more important than a job, and more important than a bottle to drown his own sorrows in, and damn it he would never stop showing his child that.

He felt the rush of blood to his head, even though he was horizontal, which always heralded the return of his seeking magic. It whispered of the souls which waited for him below, but not of his child and not of his father. His Kit was not in the room with those members of the Beacon Hills pack who were downstairs, which although distressing as Stiles was desperate to see his boy, but this, his son's absence fell in line with what Stiles had to do next. There were five members of the Beacon Hills pack downstairs, four Weres and one human. He wasn't even particularly curious as to which combination of Weres and humans, he would find out soon enough.  
It had been his intention to never come into contact with the treacherous bastards ever again despite the need for vengeance that he could almost still taste on his tongue. If he had to deal with them then it would be best if his little one was not there to witness anything that Stiles might need to do to reinforce his message to the interfering nosey mutts. Stiles and his son were off limits if they valued their own health and safety. And as Kit was not there, Stiles was in no hurry to actually face them. They could wait until he had showered and dressed. God he smelt disgusting, and although he wasn't above using a Weres sense of smell against them as a psychological weapon, he did after all have his Kit and his sensitive little nose to think about, even his own nostrils were scrunching together in self-defence.

None of them had heard him come down the stairs, fully dressed and once again fully protected by the wards in his clothes, both clean from the shower and cleansed from the last remnants of the dark struggle he and Kit had faced barely a week before. His unheralded, unnoticed appearance was exactly how Stiles wanted it. He stood at the entrance to the living room studying them for long moments feeling nothing, it was interesting purely from the point of view of furthering his own knowledge of course, but there was only a void where once there had been pack, affection and belonging.

It was Derek who raised his head and drew in a deep shuddering breath. That was also Interesting, something he could possibly use to his advantage. He had thought it might be Scott who had scented him first but when had Scott ever lived up to his expectations? Stiles thought with brief bitter amusement.  
Cora bless her cold and cynical heart was still staring moodily out the window no doubt wondering why the hell Stiles was back now, and trying not to look at her big brother, who had been lounging on the sofa looking aimlessly at the flickering pictures of the almost silent news channel on the large screen TV. The smile that crossed Stiles lips when the Weres finally realised that he was there was infinitely mocking and unnervingly satisfied.

Isaac had been standing near the kitchen counter sipping the coffee that Scott's Mom, Melissa had started to make once Scott had told her Stiles was out of bed and in the shower. She had made sandwiches because she was sure the boy would be starving after his three day sleeping session, and had threatened Scott and his betas with a wooden spoon to get them to leave them alone for Stiles. Dear God she could barely believe it, the boy was back and with his own son.  
When she had found out what the idiots had done to Stiles, what her own son had done to the boy who had been as close as a brother to him, then she had refused to speak or see any of them for months until Scott had been brought into Emergency with a wound from some goddamn supernatural monster or another.

After Stiles had fled, after he had been chased away because of his former pack, they had fallen into an almost desperate fight against every damn supernatural creepy crawly that the siren song of the Nemeton had attracted to the area.

Once she had been assured that her son wasn't going to die she had made to leave the room and continue with her duties but when Scott had begged her to stay with him she had asked him coldly if he now realised what Stiles had felt like and then left him alone with his damn pack. Derek Hale had followed her and tried to get her to go back but she told him in no uncertain terms what she thought of all of them, knowing they could all hear her. It had taken nearly a year for her to forgive her own son enough to actually agree to speak to him, and another year before she allowed any of them in her house. She had left Scott's belongings in the front yard the very day she had found out what they had done, changed the locks and gone to Alan Deaton for wolvesbane to line her windows and doors. He had tried to make her change her mind, but she only needed to slap his inscrutable face the once for him to understand how serious she was. There were days still when she would look at them laughing and joking about some pack business and her heart would hurt because there was someone missing, the flailing arms and wicked tongue, that sharp pale sweet face and kind but so clever amber eyes and she literally had to leave the room. Scott knew, his face would darken and his eyes were angrily guilty but he never dared to challenge her on her behaviour. He still wasn't sure of her reactions.

Melissa was deep in her own thoughts when she noticed the tension hit the pack. She turned around and saw him standing in the doorway. The wolves looked disconcerted as if they hadn't heard him arrive but that was impossible right. They had heard him get up and take a shower, why would they have not heard him come downstairs? But all of them were looking at him as if he had just appeared out of thin air. Melissa dismissed it as unimportant, she was more interested in looking at her other boy. Because goddamn it Stiles had been her boy too. Before Claudia had died, that kid had wound himself around her heart like a particularly stubborn vine, he and Scott had been adorable together, and afterwards when he and the Sheriff tried to deal with their loss she had tried so hard to give him the unobtrusive mothering he needed. She had babysat, fed, comforted, encouraged and loved that child with everything she had. Scott was her heart but Stiles, Stiles had a piece of her soul.

He looked taller, more muscular, and there was an aura of danger about him as if very little would stop him if he made his mind up to do something. He was still lithe and lean but there was power in those shoulders now, shoulders covered in a deep red linen collarless tunic and strength in those long legs encased in black leather. But the trousers did not look like a fashion statement, if she didn't know better they looked like protective armour, snug and leaving very little to the imagination but definitely protection. There were embossed patterns in the leather itself, some were repeating but other random designs that looked oddly like runes. Now that she had noticed the patterns in his trousers, she saw the same faint patterns in gold thread along the hem, cuffs and collar of the red tunic.  
His hair was the most startling, the last time she had seen him he was just growing out his buzz cut but now, his hair was long, a sleek black waterfall to his shoulders with that streak of silver. She winced at the sight, something bad had happened to create that solid block of silver. Then her breath caught and tears filled her eyes as she saw his face. The scar just under his left cheek bone looked like Chinese writing and he was pale, too pale even for Stiles, the bags under his eyes so prominent. When had the poor boy last actually rested and slept properly?

Years of anger, pain and fear fell away and suddenly Melissa was angry, she was absolutely furious, she had given her son and his pack hell for what they did to Stiles but Stiles hadn't come back. Not one word, not a letter, not a phone call, it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. If he didn't want to talk to them or his father he could have at least let her know he was still alive. Did she mean so little to him? How dare he not let her know he was safe? It hurt so damn much that he hadn't bothered.

She didn't even realise that she was there right in front of him until she felt the impact of the slap she had delivered to his face. "Do you know how worried I was about you, you couldn't even let me know you were alive Stiles, what about your father you selfish, selfish little shit?" The words were an angry hurt heartfelt sob and the room fell silent. She raised her hand, the one she had slapped him with to her mouth as if she couldn't believe what she had done. God, she didn't know if she wanted to apologise and kiss him or slap him again. She didn't notice that after the first shock of his arrival that Scott had moved towards Stiles with that hopeful tentative expression he had always used when he wanted something but was never sure he was going to get it. There was a softness to his face that only his pack and his mom ever saw these days.

The rest of the pack were shocked into stillness as if they didn't know what to do, Stiles turned his face back to look at Melissa, the clear red handprint on his cheek did not take away from the blankness in his amber eyes. He studied her calmly and something cold and dark forced its way down her spine. There was no babble of words or angry flailing to meet her actions, simply an ominous calmness as those cold eyes bore into hers.

"Don't ever do that again Mama McCall" the words were also calm but the underlying threat was loud and clear. Low snarling and rumbling growls met the threat and his full lips quirked up in a cold smile, as something deadly flashed through those beautiful whiskey eyes. Scott's eyes had flashed red, his Alpha power manifesting in the room as he felt the menace directed at his mother, but as he moved with supernatural speed to protect her, his snarl terrifying, he still wasn't fast enough. Stiles flicked his right wrist towards the Alpha and suddenly Scott crumbled against the wall where he had been flung, his breath leaving his mouth as if it had been punched out, agony in his face as he stared down at his belly in disbelief where a shining dagger was buried in his gut. Stiles had not taken his gaze from Melissa's pale horrified face while she saw the blood pouring through her son's hands, and repeated this time with amusement "Really Melissa, don't do that again. There are consequences when someone strikes out at me now. I am not as forgiving as I was. Getting old I guess. Now anything to eat in this place?" he finished with a cheerful indifference to the mayhem he had caused that shocked the rest of the people in the room to the core.

"Stiles" Melissa whispered almost pitifully before she rushed to her son's side, shouting frantically for someone to get the first aid kit. Stiles watched her with an almost fond smile that made Derek shudder. It was too reminiscent of Peter at his worst. What the hell was wrong with Stiles? He had always had a ruthless streak but this was on a different level, this was fucking psychotic.

Instinct made the Weres take their beta forms and surround him to attack. But when Stiles only stood there and stared at them, one eyebrow raised in contempt, they heard their Alpha order them in a trembling voice to stand down. Isaac and Cora stepped back reluctantly but Derek was vibrating with a volatile brew of emotions and his Alpha would need to roar that order at him to get him to move away from Stiles

"Fucking hell Stiles" Derek spat, still in full beta mode and Stiles actually laughed. Melissa tuned her head from her injured son and stared at him as if he was insane.

"You are right there Dude, it was hell. We only did it the once but your technique sucked Der Bear. Way, way too angsty darling for a good shag and not even good enough for a quick one, hope you have managed to improve over the years, or you'll have to go further and further away from the Beacon to find anyone interested despite your pretty face and hot bod" Stiles responded cheerfully and ignored the strangled horrified sounds that Isaac and Cora didn't seem to be aware of making. Derek's eyes widened and he took a faltering step back. Stiles wasn't lying, his heart beat was steady. He winced with shame and the pain of losing a long hidden pathetic hope. Stiles would never forgive them, never forgive him for what happened that day, but he had at least thought… He took another step away from Stiles and his face returned to the same old granite featured grumpy Sourwolf that Stiles had dealt with all those years before. Stiles smile widened but his eyes grew even colder. Three down and one to go. Melissa had been an unfortunate casualty. She was the only one he had any time for, but the opportunity had been too good to miss, and what did it matter if she never spoke to him again. He and Kit were leaving and never coming back. Now Cora he didn't give a shit about, he hadn't known her well enough or trusted her to feel any pain at her part on their betrayal. But sweet butter wouldn't melt little bad boy Isaac was so next in the line for feeling the joy at the return of the prodigal son.

That smiling face surveyed the bristling agitated Weres with a disturbing calm indifference.

"First and only warning for some old friends" the mocking contempt in the word friends made more than one person in the room shudder. "I know your weaknesses, I know all your weaknesses, I know how you fight and I know how you think. I will destroy you if you even so much as blink at me or my son the wrong way. Now get out of this house and stay away until we have left. "

He walked towards the kitchen through the furious Weres as if they weren't even there until surprise fucking surprise he was halted by an enraged Isaac standing in front of him.  
"You knifed Scot" Isaac hissed in disbelief, his claws and fangs visible. Stiles turned that frightening smiling gaze on the blonde beta. "Isaac, still the sweet vicious little puppy huh? But the years have so not been kind to you have they? Scott still not boning you? Never mind, I am sure you can find a Daddy to look after you eventually." His width of his smile was growing proportionately to the paler the Beta's cheeks grew.

He inclined his head towards the horrified Were and mock whispered "All your weaknesses Darling", then straightened and his smirk grew even brighter as he consoled with false sympathy.  
"Don't worry so Puppy, Scotty will be just fine, not as fine as if I had stabbed him in the head or heart because there's nothing in either of those areas to hit but the blade didn't have any wolvesbane in it, oops might have been silver though, which will sting a teeny tiny bit when his body tries to expel it, but hey he's the big bad Alpha, he'll recover, he's had to recover from so many things since he was bitten, including betraying his best friend, so he'll be just fine"

Stiles patted the stunned Were's head consolingly and once again moved towards the kitchen. Damn it he was going to get something to eat at some point today. He was no longer interested in the people in the room with him. He had told them what he expected, if they didn't listen that was their problem, and he had so enjoyed seeing their faces when he twisted the knife, literally in Scotty Dog's case. He sniggered to himself tempted to share his witticism but somehow he didn't think they would appreciate it.

Scott raised his head, staring at the blood on his hand in stunned disbelief as he listened to Stiles stab and flay his Betas with his words rather than an actual knife. Damn he wasn't sure which was hurting the most, the words or weapon then rage flooded him. What the fuck was the matter with him, Scott knew that Stiles would be upset but this was too far. "You get one freebie Stiles" Scott's growl was deep and powerful "but if you ever do that again…" Stiles cut him off, he still didn't bother to look at him as if he wasn't worth his effort "Don't worry Dude, I won't do that again" he paused and all the amusement drained from his voice, until it was a statement of cold fact "if you are ever stupid enough to come near me again, I will kill you" he promised simply then the cold mockery was back in his voice "Guess you better get your affaires in order and say your goodbyes Dude, because you are just that stupid aren't you?"

* * *

AN:

So Stiles was not a nice lad in this. Little shit alert was alerted. Next chapter, the rest of the pack and his Dad, will be subject to the Stilinkski awesomeness ( or in my head vindictive little shit part deux). Let me know what you think.

Thank you all for reviewing and the favouriting and even just reading this. Means a great deal and I hope you enjoy this chapter xx


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